Interlude
by KNA
Summary: It was a bright, sunny morning and Scar really would have enjoyed his walk, if not for the fact that he had a hyperactive lion cub trailing him across the savannah... Takes place some time before Scar tricks Simba into visiting the Elephant Graveyard


Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just love the characters.

_A/N: Takes place some time before Scar tricks Simba into visiting the Elephant Graveyard. _

**Interlude**

It was a bright, sunny morning and Scar really would have enjoyed his walk, if not for the fact that he had a hyperactive lion cub trailing him across the savannah. He wanted nothing more than to slap the brat to the ground and leave him for the vultures; however, mental quirks aside, Scar was not the suicidal type. He did not much care for the consequences of killing off Mufasa's offspring in plain sight of everyone.

Though Simba really was pushing the limit.

"Aren't you going to hunt? And can I help?" Simba skipped across a gopher's hole and ended up right next to Scar. "Zebras. They're _really_ difficult, aren't they? Nala says they could kick your head off! And then, her mom told her to be quiet so I bet it's all true."

"Of course it is." Scar forced a smile onto his face, but his voice did not quite match it. "And, unfortunately, I'm not going hunting."

"Aw, why not?" Simba crouched down and jumped, startling an angry gopher right back into his hole. "I've never seen you hunt!"

Scar rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. "If you proclaim loudly enough that you're going to hunt," he said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, "your prey will eventually catch on and disappear."

Ears drooping slightly, Simba reverted his gaze downwards. "That was you telling me to shut up, wasn't it." He sighed, the skip disappearing from his walk. "I'm sorry, Uncle. It's just that..." He trailed off and fell silent.

Obviously, Scar was supposed to ask, "Just what?" but the silence was such a relief to his senses that he refrained. Also, there was the issue of him not caring much at all.

Their walk continued in silence for a blessed two minutes before Simba had, apparently, bottled up all his feelings to the point of exploding. Coming to a halt rather abruptly, he blurted out, "Why do I always have to watch and learn? Why can't I help out, just once?" Noticing the way Scar was staring at him, he quieted down a bit. "It's just that I feel sort of useless that way."

Gods. Scar could feel an headache coming on. Only his self-preservation made him grit his teeth against all the words he felt like saying. This was not i _his /i _cub, now was it? One of these days, he would have to tell Mufasa to keep the brat to himself. It was completely taxing.

Simba was not looking at him, his breath coming out in quick and angry huffs, his eyes glaring death at a random, grazing ostrich to his left. Feeling a bit like walking off in the opposite direction, Scar tried to think of something to say that would make his dear nephew shut up quickly and effectively.

"Your father," he said at last, favouring Simba with a patronizing smile, "just doesn't want to see you hurt or injured. I'm sure you'll be very useful to him when you get older." Thinking the sentence over, Scar almost laughed out loud. Useful. Oh yes, as the future King, Simba would be extremely useful at preventing Scar from getting anywhere near the throne. Ever. He almost growled in anger. Even his most patient efforts could not make him produce another fake smile now. Simba, the little brat, was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Why can't I be useful now?" he persisted, shaking his head as if the few hairs on it would make the movement look impressive. "I won't learn it if I don't try!"

Counting to ten slowly in his head, Scar realised that killing Simba would be the only way to kill the conversation. As it was, that appealing plan would have to wait and so, he opted for simply getting out of this without causing the cub to throw a massive tantrum.

"You're right, of course," he said and sat down next to Simba. "Why, it's never nice to be overlooked." Patting Simba on his head awkwardly, he added with no small amount of hopefulness, "But hadn't you better tell you father that?"

Simba shifted closer and glanced up at him. "I tried but he's always going, "Not now, Simba," or "You'll see in time, Simba"! He's shown me how to hunt before, it can't be that difficult!"

"Oh, it's not the easiest thing in the world." Scar rose and gestured towards a group of buffaloes walking nearby. The herd was ignoring the both of them with casual arrogance. "Right now, I imagine you'd only get to the hoof of one of those before it trampled you to death."

Following his gaze, Simba glared at the herd. "Well, it's not like I would try by myself or anything," he mumbled, looking abashed.

"Oh wouldn't you now." Scar chuckled, finding the mental image of Simba, attacking a buffalo and getting squashed by it, just a little bit amusing. Oh, and convenient, too.

Simba looked at him with a small smile, obviously mistaking the chuckle for friendly amusement.

Suddenly aware of another smell in the air, Scar looked upwards, recognising the impatient flapping of Zazu's wings as the small bird descended on them, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"I've said it a thousand times," said Zazu, eyes trained on Simba as he landed on Scar's shoulder without a second thought. "I cannot fathom why I have to repeat myself to you all the time! You cannot go wandering off on your own, just because you're bored."

"Get off!" Scar sneered, shrugging his shoulder and glaring at Zazu. "Go sit on Mufasa's shoulder, he's the one who thinks you're not a waste of space."

As if noticing Scar for the first time, Zazu hopped a foot into the air, wings flapping erratically.

He looked from Simba's bemused expression to Scar's angry face before huffing out, "Well, I hadn't actually seen you or I promise you, I would have chosen somewhere else to land." He stayed in the air, however, addressing Simba once again. "Simba, your father wants to see you so you'd do well not to waste anymore time out here." The word "waste" was predictably emphasised and Scar flashed his teeth in Zazu's direction, not too keen on letting the insult pass.

"I thought Dad was busy at the South-Eastern border?" True to his young age, Simba could not quite hide the affront in his voice. "And I thought you were busy talking to the giraffes about spots!"

Scar could not help but smile a bit too broadly at that. "Really, Zazu, that's positively i _racy_ /i of you! Spots! With the giraffes!" He rolled his eyes, voice dropping at least an octave. "No wonder you can't keep an audience."

Simba burst out laughing. Zazu stared at Scar, a nasty expression on his face. "You, Scar, are belittling me in front of the king's son." He puffed up his feathers slightly. "It really says more about you than it does of me."

Shrugging, Scar simply nodded in the direction of Pride Rock. "I thought you had to hurry? Or do you expect Simba to get home by himself?" Smirking, he made to turn away, adding, "My brother would hardly approve of that."

"Since when were you such an expert on that particular issue, hm?" Mufasa came walking out of the tall grass, his movements graceful and his expression openly amused.

Simba, being incredibly predictable, exclaimed, "DAD!", his young face lightening up as if someone had given him a huge treasure. Mufasa smiled and patted him lightly with one paw, eying Scar and Zazu with just a hint of suspicion. Zazu, the drooling little idiot, quickly flew to his shoulder and glared at Scar from a safer distance.

Coward.

Smiling at Mufasa with obvious insincerity, Scar decided that getting out of here was by far the most favourable option.

"Oh, I should know my own brother, shouldn't I?" he said, hating the fact that he did and trying not to show it. "According to Simba, you're acting quite like an overprotective mother hen in that regard."

Mufasa's eyes narrowed to slits at Scar's impertinent tone, but before he could say anything, Simba exclaimed, "It's not _that_ bad and I SO didn't say that!" He glanced at Scar with some exasperation. "Tell him I didn't call him that! You know I didn't."

"Your son didn't call you an overprotective mother hen." Scar smiled nastily at Mufasa's expression. "That was all me, though of course, I spoke with utter fondness." He was playing the witty card and Simba was eating it up. Mufasa, not so much, but in front of Simba no one quarrelled much at all. If Scar took advantage of that, it sure was not his problem. He did not tell Mufasa to have that rotten little cub anyway, now did he?

"Yeah right." Simba rose and walked up to brush against Scar's leg slightly, smiling brightly at him. "Stop offending my dad, it's not nice. Offend Zazu some more, he's annoying anyway."

The sound of Zazu's spluttering protests almost made him smile. Scar told himself that killing Simba off would be the easiest thing in the world, even as the young cub flicked his tail and joined his father in three large skips. Really, as soon as he came up with the perfect plan, it would be nothing more than an afterthought. He did not like the stupid cub and he sure did not like Mufasa either.

Realising that Mufasa was devoting all his attention to Simba for the time being, Scar walked off without a backward glance. Oh, so poor little Simba was not getting any attention, hm? He should try it for real, Scar thought, seeking out a lone, young gazelle which was too lame to run. Not getting recognised - getting ignored no matter what he did or how hard he tried to be noticed - would probably make the spoiled cub fall over and die. With that happy thought in mind, Scar made ready to get himself a bit of breakfast, the doomed gazelle grazing on, unknowingly waiting for death.


End file.
